Avenge Lock: A Study In Ice
by Voldieissocool
Summary: Avengers/Sherlock. Loki escapes from Asgard, and ends up working with Moriarty. Thor and Sherlock team up to save London, and defeat their respective villains. But how will it all end up? Thunderfrost, Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Hey :) thanks for reading! This is the first story I've written in so long...so yeah sorry if it's bad.  
I don't own Avengers or Sherlock. But oh damn I wish I did.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The wind whistled down the alleyway, pushing Thor's long blonde locks over his face. He pushed them aside irritably and continued running, chasing the elusive figure whose long-limbed shadow jumped and shifted from building to building as the streetlights changed. He had been running for a fair while; but he certainly didn't feel as though he had- his training and the adrenaline rush, in equal parts, were keeping his feet pounding the pavement in his pursuit.

Sherlock's scarf was tied fast around his neck, and becoming uncomfortably warm in the midst of all this exercise. John, to his credit, was still beside him; and despite the doctor's complaints, he didn't seem to be that out of breath.

The shortcuts that Sherlock insisted on taking would pay off, he knew, but he wished that the route didn't have to consist of quite so many sharp turns and dingy alleyways.

Thor was gaining on the silhouette now, his breath coming in a cloud around him, chilled by the night's cold air. His warrior training was finally paying off for something in this realm, he thought. Nobody could beat the mighty Thor.

As they came out of yet another alleyway into a more brightly lit road, John wondered exactly how much longer Sherlock would pursue for until he decided that it was futile. He hoped it was going to be sooner rather than later, as his breath was catching in his throat, and he could feel his legs slowly going leaden. Sherlock wasn't paying any attention now to his companion, hot on the trail of his target.

It was largely this to blame when Sherlock failed to hear heavy footfalls that were not his or John's, and as a result, a large, blonde-haired man came barrelling out of a conjoining alleyway and knocked him over. John, running too fast to stop, tripped over the resulting tangle of limbs and ended up in an undignified sprawling mess a metre away.

"Who are you, mortal, that you would dare stop the mighty Thor?" thundered the slightly out-of-breath Thor as he sat up, dusting off his cloak.

Sherlock turned and fixed him with an icy stare. "I think, 'Thor', that you should perhaps look before you come charging out of alleyways? I know that you were chasing somebody dear to you of your own, but precaution never hurts." He stood up and brushed off the front of his cloak.

Thor looked slightly stunned at this strange tall mortal, able to know things that he shouldn't. The other mortal, his short companion, was still lying on the ground, his breath coming in short gasps. _An odd pair,_ he thought.

He held out his hand to the tall one, fixing a smile of peace on his face. "Thor of Asgard." he said by way of an introduction.

Sherlock smiled back, shaking the huge hand offered to him. "Sherlock Holmes. This," he said, waving his hand in John's general direction, "is Doctor John Watson, my associate." John made a strangled noise and, with a great deal of effort, stood up, straightening out his clothes with military precision before stepping forward and shaking Thor's hand.

"So, Sherlock of Holmes," Thor boomed, adjusting his cloak. "Do you have a place of residence in which we may continue this conversation? It is a rather cold night here in Midgard."

* * *

After a brisk walk Sherlock and Thor arrived at 221B Baker Street. John, lagging behind, climbed the stairs gripping the banister tightly, and collapsed onto his chair. Sherlock was laid down on the couch, fingers already forming the familiar steeple shape as he contemplated his next move.

Thor was wandering around the small flat, looking at the books, staring at his reflection in the slightly grubby mirror and raising an eyebrow at the skull and cold half-drunk cup of tea resting on the mantlepiece. John, ever the Englishman, took off his coat and asked Thor if he'd like some tea.

Thor was an odd name, he thought. Very odd indeed. He'd met all sorts of people in his time with Sherlock, but this guy really took the cake. The way he was dressed, too-as though he was off to a Hallowe'en party, with his long red cloak and shining armour; made John curious as to where exactly he came from. He'd said Asgard, recalled John, but that was a fantasy 'realm of the gods' in an old book of Norse mythology he'd poured over as a schoolboy.

The hot water kettle boiled steadily as John got some cups and checked the flat's fridge for milk. At least there weren't any heads in there, or visible body parts.

Thor was leaning against the counter, watching the smaller mortal fuss around making what he presumed were the humans' equivalent of drinks. He didn't know what 'tea' was, but he thought that at the very least it sounded inviting and comfortable.

"So, Son of Wat. You and the Holmes man live together?" Thor questioned, tapping a rhythm into the side of the counter with his fingertips.

John raised an eyebrow at him. "We're not a couple," he said, hesitantly. "And why do you talk like that? Like you come straight out of some historical drama?"

Thor chuckled, a deep, throaty noise that rumbled through the small room. "It is the way I was brought up. You question my origins, don't you?"

John made a non-committal noise in his throat as he poured the boiling water into the teapot.

"You can't really be from Asgard, can you? That's a place from legend." said John. It was more of a statement, than a question.

Thor gave another hearty chuckle. "A legend to you mortals, perhaps. Yes, I am of Asgard. I am Thor Odinson, heir to the Asgardian throne. Your realm of Midgard is under my people's protection, and thus I have come in my quest to maintain the peace." Before John could open his mouth to ask what exactly it was that was threatening 'his realm of Midgard', Thor continued. "My brother, also heir, has…escaped…from where he was being held on Asgard. He has sworn vengeance upon me and more so my father, and has come to Midgard with intentions of claiming your world and using it for his own."

Sherlock had, in the midst of this conversation, slunk off the couch and into the kitchen with the intention of learning more about their mysterious guest.

"And yet you still love him, this brother of yours." he said softly.

Thor spun around, unsure what exactly the quiet tone of the taller mortal was implying.

"Of course," he replied, studying Sherlock's calm face. Whilst his face was calm, his eyes were probing, questioning. Thor almost felt as though he was made of crystal, easily seen through with merely that penetrating stare. "Do you not love your siblings?"

Sherlock shrugged and loped back out to the sitting room, sprawling his long limbs over his chair. John brought in the tea and for a while there was a silence.

It wasn't a comfortable silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was merely _a_ silence.

The silence was broken by Thor, who, interested in this curious couple of mortals, asked why it was that they were running through the cold streets of this Midgardian city so late at night.

"Moriarty." said Sherlock, a shadow of fear running across his face. It was a fleeting expression; before you could register it, it had gone. But John had noticed it and gave Sherlock a faint, encouraging smile.

The two continued to gaze at each other, having a whole conversation merely in looks alone. Thor was confused, looking from face to face, eyes as though watching a tennis match.

"Who is this Moriarty?" he eventually asked.

Sherlock smiled and said he was a spider, although Thor wasn't sure whether he meant a literal spider, or a human who merely acted like one.

"He seems like a worthy foe for somebody with wit as great as yours," Thor said, drinking more of the 'tea', which he had found to be not only as inviting and comfortable as its name advertised, but more warming than the mead he was used to-with the added bonus of not muddling his head.

Sherlock shrugged again. "He is my equal in intellect and cunning, yet he has one singular flaw. He wishes only to show off, to prove himself a worthy opponent. I do not go in for such follies."

"Not to mention that he's a criminal, and you're on the side of the law." added John, over the top of his teacup.

"My brother is a 'criminal'," said Thor, nodding gently. "Although I think, perhaps, that his aims are larger than merely showing off."

* * *

That night, Thor slept on the couch in their sitting room, curled up in his cloak and their blankets, snoring softly and moving slightly in his sleep.  
John was in the kitchen, making himself some tea-as he couldn't sleep, thoughts of Moriarty, this mysterious other-worldly guest and his brother all rattling around inside his head, and perhaps the most perplexing thoughts of all, of Sherlock and his infernal existence, chasing them, causing a cacophony inside his head.

He was just pouring the hot water when Sherlock came in, wrapped in his sheet-toga and rubbing his eyes.  
"Making tea, John?" he said quietly. John jumped. He hadn't heard Sherlock come in.

Without even asking he pulled another mug out of the cupboard and made a second cup of tea, handing it to Sherlock who smiled gratefully and sat down at their kitchen table. It was, for a change, instead of being covered in experiment detritus and 'case things' that John was strictly forbidden to touch, devoid of science and had a vase in the middle of it, filled with a bunch of thankyou flowers sent care of a grateful Scotland Yard detective.

John pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, enjoying this almost domestic moment between the two of them. Unlike the silence earlier, this one was comfortable, the silence shared by two people merely enjoying each other's company and a cup of tea.

"So do you really think this Thor bloke is for real?" John asked, blowing over the top of his cup.

Sherlock nodded. "His brother's obviously real too, wherever he is. I'd hazard a guess that he and Moriarty have…connected…somehow. It was no coincidence that we ran into each other tonight."

John felt slightly sick at the thought of James Moriarty working with a god.

"Well Thor seems to know how to stop him, at the very least. He's certainly very attached to him."

"More than attached, I'd say," said Sherlock, draining the scalding contents of his cup in one swallow. "As usual, you did not observe. There are the very basic signs you have failed to interpret. Good thing they're not related by blood, I'd say."  
John nearly spat out the mouthful of tea he'd just taken. "You mean, Thor and this brother are-"

Sherlock shrugged, his eyes smiling at John. "As I say, I don't believe them to be blood-related. Even if they are, perhaps they have different, ah, views, on the subject, in this Asgard 'realm'."  
He placed his empty cup on the table and, gathering his sheet around him, headed off to his bedroom, leaving John to his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Ok. I take full responsibility for any Loki feels in this chapter. Sorry. Thankyou for reading!  
I still don't own any characters omg. Please review if you have anything to say :)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

The flat that Loki was sharing with Jim was cold; so cold, in fact, that Loki almost felt at home there. The sense of intermingled betrayal, guilt and loss he'd felt at the reveal of his true heritage had only hardened his heart and steeled his resolve. He was utterly determined to bring this punitive realm under his rule, no matter the cost in human blood. Thor knew he was here, and every second was soon to become valuable.

He sat down on the small sofa in the main room of the flat, resting his face in his hands. He somehow had guessed, long ago, that he was not of Odin's flesh and blood, but of another; he had often wondered whose and never dared imagine.

But now he knew. He knew for certain that Jotun blood flowed through his veins…the very thought was enough to make him feel sick.

Loki still remembered the look of disbelief intertwined with a kind of disgusted repulsion that Thor's face had assumed upon his discovery of Loki's legitimate parentage. After he had been brought back to Asgard for trial as a 'war criminal', Odin had coldly thrown him under lock and key in the palace, like a naughty puppy whose punishment was to be locked in a cage. He had forced Loki to reveal his true 'colouring' as he had called it, when Thor had protested against his imprisonment, claiming that it was all lies.

His stunned face at Loki's blue skin and piercingly red eyes had haunted Loki in his dreams for months, and he felt now that Thor would never love him. Who, after all, could love a monster who they had been brought up to hate?

For the real truth was that Loki, too, had grown up fearing the Jotuns, and to discover that he was one, he hated himself. From all that he knew, his life was a lie; his very existence a falsehood.

"When I am king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!"

Thor's childish voice rang in his ears as Loki massaged his fingertips into his temples.

Did that mean that Thor viewed him, too, as a monster, only to be killed in hatred, hiding under the guise of protecting Asgard?

He couldn't bear the thought, for he loved Thor, more than he cared to admit.

It was his only weakness, he believed, a kind of childish loyalty, which had long harboured feelings of much more than mere brotherly love.

He stamped his foot impatiently on the floor, the thud ringing through the small flat. He could no longer spare thought for sentimentality if he was to conquer this realm. _Best be over with and accept your fate, Loki. Rule or be ruled._

* * *

Jim had carried the bag of takeaway Chinese food up the stairs and now placed it on the ground in order to open the door. The keys jangled as he dropped them back into his pocket and made his way into the apartment. It was so cold inside, although why, he had no idea. It had been Loki's suggestion, and he had merely obliged.  
James Moriarty was not an easily swayed or controlled man; in fact he prided himself on his lack of sentimentality. Sebastian had been gone for a few months when he'd first met Loki; the tall, coldly smiling eyes and firm handshake had made an impression on the criminal mastermind.

Loki, he knew, was not of this 'realm' as he called it, he was from a place called Asgard, although it seemed that he may not have even been from there.

Jim didn't care where he was from, only that he was on his side and he remained so. It was impossible to control Loki, he had found that, and for the first time he was working with somebody who had the upper hand in terms of their relationship's power balance.

He could see Loki sitting silently on the sofa. He hadn't seemed to register Jim's entry into their flat, but as the smell of Chinese food wafted over his clear green eyes flicked in Jim's direction.

"Food's here," he said, by way of explanation. "You might not like it but nothing else was open this late at night."

Loki shrugged. Food held no real importance to him, a meal would not give him the satisfaction of revenge that he was craving. He made his way over to the bench and took a plastic container at Jim's invitation.

Cracking open the lid, he found it to be full of stringy-grain based…things with vegetables, meat and some kind of sauce. Jim handed him a pair of 'chopsticks', long wooden skewers he presumed were used to eat with.

The food wasn't bad, but Loki simply wasn't interested.

Jim chattered aimlessly about his plans for that week, and Loki thought about what his next move was going to be.

Cutting Jim off mid-sentence he asked softly "Do you think then, that my brother and this Holmes man are allied against us?"

Jim's dark eyes snapped onto Loki's as he nodded, moving his head in a snakelike fashion. "They quite literally ran into each other, Loki. Sherlock's weakness is his interest in unravelling all the little problems, proving himself. He will have your brother on his side, I can promise you."

Jim's voice was menacingly soft.

* * *

Later that night, as the two of them lay in bed; Jim rolled up like a caterpillar in a cocoon of blankets and Loki facing the window; he stared into the inky-black sky. It was tinted with soft pinks and blues as the sun got ready to rise on a new day. The faintly glimmering stars were beginning to go out and he could hear the city waking up.

As he lay there, thinking, Loki remembered Jim's comments about Sherlock and his brother. Working together, he had said.

Loki smiled, the sides of his thin lips curling upwards. There could perhaps be some advantage in using this small mortal, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: hello again :) thankyou to all of you for reading!  
still don't own anyone aagghhh disappointment of my life

* * *

Chapter 3

By the time that Thor awoke the next morning, John had left to go and purchase food supplies and Sherlock had set up his science equipment again. He was perched on a stool, feet hooked around the cross-bar and goggled eyes squinted in concentration. He was muttering inaudibly to himself.

Thor watched, fascinated, as he added coloured substances together, watching the resultant bubbling and fizzing with a keen eye.

Before he had the chance to ask Sherlock anything, Thor's stomach gave a loud grumble and Sherlock looked up. "Good morning," he said tonelessly. "John's gone to get some food, he should be back in a little bit."

Thor nodded, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He had been so tired that he'd fallen asleep in full armour…he could already feel the bruises forming on his ribs and hips.

"A question, Sherlock of Holmes," said Thor. Sherlock looked up from his pipettes and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Do you have clothes in your possession that I may have a loan of? I require fresh garments."

As Sherlock looked him up and down he nodded slightly and, taking off his goggles, went in the direction of his bedroom.

Thor wasn't sure what to do, so merely stood on the spot, examining Sherlock's science equipment, tapping the glass tubes gently.

He'd never been very good at science, or school even, for that matter. Asgardian schools, he presumed, must be like Midgardian ones, but he'd found it boring. He itched for battle training, to run outside, instead of being cooped up in a small room learning about rulers and events that had gone many hundreds of generations before him.

School had always been Loki's forte, Thor thought. He'd always associated his younger brother with books and cleverness, ever eager to learn and always wishing to prove himself.

The thought of Loki, however, hurt Thor like a physical blow. Loki had seen Thor last night, he'd glanced back as he ran, his green eyes glinting.

Thor wondered if Loki hated him. He wouldn't blame him, either. Thor remembered all the times he had sworn hatred of the Jotuns and their frozen realm, all the times he'd vowed to eliminate them all.

Did Loki realise, he wondered, that Jotun or not, he was Thor's brother, and Thor would love him accordingly?

Actually, that wasn't true. Thor had, for longer than he remembered, had feelings for Loki that definitely pushed the boundary of brotherhood. He was confused by these conflicting feelings of love and a sickening kind of desire, but he supposed that, as they were not related by blood, it wasn't as wrong as it could have been.

He was still thinking when Sherlock came back in, now wearing a dressing gown and holding some clothes in his hands.

"I am not entirely sure they'll fit, but here." he said, handing the clothes to Thor and settling himself back on his seat.

Thor smiled gratefully before excusing himself into another room to change. He had no qualms about being naked in front of other people; but these Midgardians had an odd view on the subject.

* * *

The clothes he'd been presented with fit…just.

The shirt clung to his skin and the pants fit snugly. He didn't mind. He walked back out into the food-room and sat down across from Sherlock, who eyed him cautiously.

"So, this brother of yours," he said, his sharp blue eyes flicking to lock on with Thor's. "Tell me more about him."

Thor explained about Loki, his heritage, their family and all that he had done. He was usually cautious about discussing his private things with others; especially Midgardians. He had not even told Jane the things he was telling this Sherlock man. However, this Holmes had one of those faces that Thor felt as though he could trust.

"Hmm…" Sherlock remarked, as Thor fell silent and ran a hand through his long blonde hair. "So this Loki is very dear to you, correct?"

Thor nodded. "He is my brother."

"But you have more than appropriate brotherly feelings for him?" said Sherlock.

Thor was stunned at the simple ease with which his darkest secret slipped between this mortal's lips.

"I-I didn't tell you that-" he stuttered.

"You didn't tell me as such in words," Sherlock remarked, not looking up from his tubes. "But the physical signals were blindingly obvious, not to mention the way you talk about him. I may believe love to be an inferior emotion, clouding thinking and numbing reason, but that does not mean I do not understand it."

Thor was about to reply when John, lugging several heavy-looking bags of food, lumbered into the kitchen. He'd obviously heard their conversation and was looking at Thor with an odd expression.

Thor opened his mouth to explain, but Sherlock and John were having one of their eye-conversations again and were too busy putting away the food to listen with any concentration.

_Perhaps another time would be best to explain,_ Thor thought, as he set about getting sustenance for himself.

* * *

Thor found an appropriate time to explain that afternoon. Sherlock had left to go and do something, Thor knew not what. The son of Wat was sitting at a table with one of those strange Midgardian 'laptops' and was tapping away at letters arranged on it.

"Look, Son of Wat. I know, that even in this small and undeveloped realm, inter-family relationships are frowned upon, scorned even," Thor began.

John looked up from his laptop and, fingers poised mid-keystroke, made a pouty face. "But," he continued, "It is not entirely wrong, as we are not related by blood. He is the son of another realm's king; stolen as a baby."

John mulled it over in his mind. _Well, as long as they're not blood relatives…I suppose it's less wrong,_ he decided. He opened his mouth to say something but merely ended up shrugging, before returning to his blog update.

Thor sat back in the chair, relieved that he had a chance to explain to this peculiar short Midgardian. However, he'd overestimated the chair's strength and proceeded to break not only the legs, but the whole wooden structure snapped and twisted as the Asgardian's heavy frame fell on top of it.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thankyou so much to everyone who's reading! and especially to BlueBoxInLondon :)  
still don't own anything, to my ongoing anguish.

* * *

Chapter 4

Loki awoke late in the day, much later than he was accustomed to.

Truth be told, he was almost nocturnal. He didn't sleep during the night; he found it hard to when all he could see was stars. Stars that reminded him of home.  
These Midgardian constellations were so very different, yet he could easily conjure up lights that would dance upon the ceiling, mimicking the sky which he used to lie in bed and wonder about in Asgard.

Even during the day he had trouble sleeping.

Jim had woken up earlier, and had made some of that bitter smelling substance which he called 'coffee'. He was lying on their sofa basking in the morning sun which was streaming through the window. Jim had a peculiar habit of rolling his head and eyes around, as though he was a snake, sussing out prey before striking. It was unnerving; even for an Asgardian who had seen fearsome warriors and fearful armies.

_No, __Loki, _he reminded himself_. __Not __Asgardian. __You __never __were._

Sighing to himself, he got out of the bed, which despite having heavy blankets was cold, and meandered aimlessly over to the cold storage unit that seemed to house all the sustenance.

There was bread. There was some kind of sweet Midgardian spread that seemed to be made from sugar and fruits. Shivering, Loki covered the bread in this strange substance and joined Jim in the sun.

"So," said Jim, not opening his eyes, hands still wrapped around the coffee cup. "When do you think this plan of yours will come into action?"

Loki didn't say anything. He was watching the swirling steam from the hot drink spiral and thin out into the air.

"Soon." he eventually said.

Jim rolled his closed eyes venomously at Loki. He didn't wish for Loki to see him roll his eyes at the fearful Asgardian, because Loki had turned out to be somebody that Jim couldn't manipulate, couldn't control, and that scared him.

"Nevertheless, Loki, time is running out…Thor knows you're here," said Jim in a playfully dangerous tone. "He'll come and get you, and there'll be nothing you can do to stop him," he continued. He could see Loki's eyes darken with anger and Jim knew he was playing with fire.

But he couldn't stop.  
He never knew when to stop.

He was interested in exactly _how_ far he could push this mysterious god, how much it would take for him to lose control. Jim knew that the subject of his brother was a sensitive one; as well as tensing every time he was mentioned, Loki muttered constantly about him in his sleep.

"He's so much more powerful than you. If you're going to act," he persisted. "act now. Before he works out where you are. He's a huge, muscly Asgardian god and you, whilst being his equivalent in brains, certainly aren't in bulk, if you know what I mean."  
Loki was close to snapping now, Jim could see it, as Loki placed his plate on the coffee table, harder than he obviously intended. The jam-covered bread remained untouched.

"And come ooooon, Loki. I've heard you muttering, in your sleep. You won't be able to match Thor's power when he comes looking for you. So when are you going t-"

He was cut off as Loki stood up, causing the table to be knocked over; Jim's coffee and the jam-bread fell to the floor and the glass top of the table smashed. Loki made one swift move to where Moriarty was laying and placed his hand to Jim's throat.

It wasn't the threatening gesture or the feeling of his icy cold hand pressed right into Jim's neck that scared him the most.

Loki's eyes, usually calm and almost gentle looking, were filled with a deep anger that chilled Jim right to the bone.

"Never insult me like that again, or you will rue the day I decided to allow you to help me, puny mortal." Loki spat the words out like venom, before turning away and leaving the flat, closing the door with a deadly quiet 'click'.

Jim had to lie on the sofa for a few minutes until his heart went back to normal.

_I__'__ve __already __begun __to__ '__rue __the __day__' __I __let __you __in to __my __flat, __mischief-maker,_ he thought, before turning over and laying in the dwindling sunlight.

* * *

In the apartment at 221B Baker Street, all appeared to be normal. Well, as normal as life could be with a warrior god sleeping on the couch.

Sherlock languished in his chair, hands pressed together in the all-too-familiar steeple against his chin.

John sat opposite him, reading the newspaper and occasionally glancing over the top of the page at Sherlock, who looked catatonic, his usually sharp eyes dulled and pensive. John severely hoped that he hadn't lapsed into any old _habits_.

When he'd asked Sherlock what was happening with the search for Moriarty and this Loki fellow, he'd merely murmured that he'd 'put some feelers out'. That was, John thought, probably why he wasn't leaving his mobile phone anywhere that wasn't within reaching distance of his person.

For the sake of everyone around them, John hoped that these 'feelers' would come up with something soon…Sherlock without a case was quick to become as temperamental as a fire spread in a petrol station.

Thor was still sleeping, drawing deep rumbling breaths that made the tea in John's cup shake and move. He stared slightly irritatedly at the huge figure lying there and decided that it could have been worse.

* * *

It was three hours later and nothing had changed.

Sherlock was still sitting, although he had moved his legs and was now draped across the chair, legs hanging over one arm and neck resting over the other.

Thor was, damnably, still sleeping. Still snoring.

John had made tea, made food, done washing up, changed sheets and put clothes on to wash, and having done that, was back in his chair, tapping away at the computer.

Thor, annoyed by the irritating noise the small keys made, sat up and grunted, wiping sleep out of his eyes and ruffling his hair.

"So, Son of Wat. What is happening? Have you sourced my brother?"

John still wasn't sure how to take this guy. He spoke like he was in a Shakespearian play, ate like every meal was his first in months and dressed like he was constantly attending a mediaeval fair.

He settled for a shake of the head and, smiling, went back to typing.

Thor was curious about this strange device. What pulling power could it possibly have, that this small mortal spent so much time on it?

He poked his head over John's shoulder and squinted at the screen.

"What sorcery is this, that words may appear on the screen without ink?" he demanded loudly.

John smiled. "It's a laptop computer."  
Thor gave him a nonplussed smile. "Are these…lap-top 'compyuters'…popular on this realm?" he asked. John got the impression that he was trying to bring the conversation to a level he understood.

He nodded.

Thor nodded back, slowly, and crossed his arms. He had seen much of this Midgardian technology, particularly that of the Man of Iron and the Banner man.

It still baffled him.

"Are you using this, ah, device, to source my brother?" he asked.

John made a 'so-so' gesture and pointed to the chair where Sherlock was lying, still catatonic. "We've started looking for some leads, but none yet."

Just as he was finishing the sentence Sherlock's phone beeped a message tone and the lanky figure sprung up, staring at it for a while, before the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes sparkled.

John looked at him, eyebrows raised, posing an unvoiced question.

Sherlock smiled. "My feelers have finally struck the spider's web."

And with that, the tall figure disappeared into the bedroom to change.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: thank you to everybody reading! Ah, you guys are all perfection.

This chapter is for Melodie, Holly, Hannah-Harkness, Sunbear and BlueBoxInLondon

Thank you so much to animegirl03 and dreykar also, for your lovely reviews :)

Disclaimer: ah, if only I owned the characters. If only.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

After he had left the flat, Loki stalked the streets, vexedly turning things over in his head. He wasn't upset that he had fought with Jim; he knew he had won, and won mastery over the insignificant Midgardian; it was the things that Jim had said.

_You won't be able to match his power…time's running out… he's so much more powerful...so much more powerful…_

The thoughts ran around the inside of his head, joining Thor's childlike voice and Odin's booming hatred of his race, each one trying to yell the loudest, making him so angry that he stopped walking and stomped one foot down on the ground.

Several pigeons nearby, startled, took flight.

Loki hadn't looked where he was going. It had seemed that he'd ended up in a small park of some kind.

Several jogging Midgardians were looking at him and he snapped at them to stop staring.

As a chill wind cut through the park, Loki realised that he, firstly, didn't know where he was and, secondly, didn't have any warm clothing on.

The flat had been sunny and relatively warm that morning, but cold had worked its way into the heart of the city, clouds racing up the streets and blocking out the sun.

He was only dressed in a pair of 'jeans' (as Jim had called them), and a flimsy piece of fabric, resembling the shift he wore under all of his Asgardian garments, only shorter. The wind wrapped its fingers around Loki's long, dank hair and tugged it over his face. He pushed it irritably behind one ear.

The cold didn't bother him, but his weakened body would soon succumb to the chill.

As the park slowly drained of Midgardians, all deigning to get inside out of this impending storm, Loki shivered and hugged himself tightly, trying to work out how to get back to the safety of the flat.

For now he thought about it, nowhere was safe, now that Thor was after him.

* * *

Sherlock had put on a long, heavy coat, the same coat he had been wearing the night they'd run into each other; and was tying his scarf around his neck, when Thor stopped him.

"Sherlock of Holmes; what is this spider's web of which you speak?"

Sherlock stopped tying his scarf and looked keenly at the Asgardian.

"Moriarty. He's got your brother. Or, as the case seems to be, your brother has him."

Thor opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock kept talking over him.

"I spread the message to my homeless network, and they've been looking for them, or any mention of them. I got a text message a few minutes ago saying that they'd been seen, or at any rate, Moriarty had been seen, in a block of flats about half an hour from here."

John appeared quietly at the edge of Thor's vision but he ignored him.

"So we are going to seek out this Moriarty and by doing so, source my brother's whereabouts?" he asked, not for the first time that day.

"I don't want you to come with me," he said in a tone that Thor couldn't quite put a finger on. "I'm going to observe what I can. Just stay inside."

John shrugged. There was no use arguing with Sherlock once he'd made up his mind anyway.

Thor wasn't so easily ordered around. He put one gigantic muscled hand on Sherlock's now retreating shoulder and pulled him towards his person.

"Loki is my brother, Sherlock of Holmes. Your 'Moriarty' may be a personal villain, but Loki is my brother. My kindred…" Thor trailed off mid-sentence as he thought of words to describe Loki; words that would be appropriate for the situation. Failing to come up with any, he continued. "I came to this realm to seek him out and stop him from causing any more damage. Not only to this realm, but to himself."

Sherlock shook his head and tried to move Thor's hand off his person.

It was no use.

His eyes glinted as he changed tactics.

"Thor, think about it. You are a fine warrior, the best in your realm. What if you came with me and spooked Moriarty and your brother away? It would take me weeks to find them again, especially if Moriarty deduced I was on his trail. Surely you can see _this _is the best course of action?"

Thor reconsidered. He knew from experience that if startled, Loki would take flight like a bird, flying high above where he could not be found.

He sighed deeply and, taking his hand off Sherlock's thin yet surprisingly muscled shoulder, slumped back into the small living room and settled himself onto the couch.

* * *

Loki had discovered his way back onto streets that were familiar, Midgardian stores and 'traffic lights' that were all leading him in one direction: to the flat.

It had begun to rain now, lightly at first, but the drops were definitely getting heavier now. They were splashing onto his head and nose, getting in his eyes and mouth, trickling icy tracks down his back.

Loki ignored them. Cold was of no issue to him, nor would it be, so long as his heart was encased in ice.

* * *

Jim was inside the tiny flat, spread across the sofa with his laptop open, and warming his feet against a heater that he'd turned on in the wake of the sudden cold snap.

A few issues had turned up over the days he'd been absent from the criminal world, nothing that a few minutes' thought and a quick phone call didn't fix. Just the basic things, hired muscle getting caught on the job, family members talking to police, spouses wanting to disappear, people who needed to be 'taken care of'…all those simple, ordinarily _boring_ problems that Jim had dealt with so many times before, and held no interest to him.

He bit the corner of his lip as he watched the rain pelting the window.

There was nothing of consequence, nothing _fun_.

Sherlock had 'defeated' him; by jumping off that hospital roof he had done nothing but cause a surge of publicity, publicity that he'd proceeded to take advantage of.

Jim, in the meantime, had slipped quietly into the shadows.

He couldn't just 'reappear', alive and dangerously prepared as ever.

No.

This entry back into the world of the living and its cumbersome police force needed _style_.

Something that would establish him as the greatest criminal mind of the century.

Something that involved a certain Asgardian, perhaps?

He closed his laptop and placed it on the table, sitting back into the sofa to ponder his problem.

Jim knew that Sherlock knew he was alive. Thankfully, Sherlock's ego prevented him from revealing the secret they shared: that was, until he could do it in a clever way. He wasn't a threat in Moriarty's mind…so long as Moriarty held off on the big-time crime, or at least on direct involvement.

However, this 'Thor' character that Loki had chasing after him was a completely different kettle of fish.

Jim hadn't been lying in their argument earlier-Loki really did talk in his sleep. Most of it was strange mumbling about realms and Asgard, Odin and Jotuns, but the last few nights he'd been distinctly muttering about 'Thor'.  
From what he'd gathered, Thor was his brother…or something. He wasn't sure and almost hoped that he wasn't, because Loki had said some _very _un-brotherly things about this mighty Thor.

Loki and Jim hadn't discussed family or personal life at all. Their relationship was mutualistic, beneficial only in terms of business. They weren't in it for companionship or personal gain; Jim had Sebastian for that kind of sentimental nonsense.

He also had another problem on his hands.

Just what was he going to _do_ about Loki?

The tall, foreboding, icy cold demeanour and actions of the 'Asgardian' had chilled Jim, and after their spat earlier; where Loki had clearly (and more insultingly, easily) asserted his dominance over the criminal mastermind; he had become more of a threat than an asset.

Yet he couldn't and wouldn't dare to try and break loose from this deadly partnership he was almost locked into.

Loki could still be of use to him yet, he supposed. All he had to do was find his weak spot…and exploit it.

* * *

Sherlock ignored the driving rain and, turning up his coat's collar, followed a mental map to a good vantage point across the road from Moriarty's supposed flat.

The block was old and tired-looking. Washing hung on balcony railings and windows were barred up against the world.  
Fortunately, windows were one of the things this block of flats _did_ have.

He buried himself into his coat and sat waiting…watching.

* * *

Loki entered the warmer temperature of the flat and shook his head, spraying the walls with a fine mist of water.

Jim, still deep in thought, didn't notice him. He blinked slowly.

Loki, still slightly angry at him, ignored him and, throwing his keys into the bowl by the door, swept into the bedroom to change out of his now soaked clothes.

While he was changing, Jim made a quick call to Sebastian. His phone wasn't on, which meant that he was probably…working.

He sighed and threw the phone into the corner of the sofa, resuming his horizontal position and tapping his toes together.

There weren't a great deal of these strange Midgardian garments in the wardrobe the two shared, but Loki managed to get sufficiently warm layers on the right limbs without any major hiccups.

Jim appeared to be still languishing on the sofa when Loki re-emerged, now dry-clothed and damp-haired.

"I see you managed to find your way back in this storm," said Jim listlessly. "Are you hungry?"

Loki stared at the reptile-like figure for a while, and then commanded him to go and make some food.

* * *

Sherlock watched the proceedings in the small flat with some interest.

When he entered the flat, it was obvious that the tall, green-eyed Loki held the upper hand.

_Interesting._

The situation between the two was obviously volatile. They were sufficiently civil to each other for the sole purpose, it seemed, of getting what they wanted.  
That was a relationship that could turn dangerous.

Very quickly.

After watching for a while longer, and then when the curtains were drawn over the window and he could see no longer, Sherlock decided to go home.

He'd made some interesting deductions indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to all you lovely people who are reading this and reviewing! ahh you're all wonderful (▰˘◡˘▰)  
this is for BlueBoxInLondon, anemotionallyinvestedfangirl, mistyfoxmaid, Coolisimo12 and WatsWitDaMonkey.

Sorry this took a while to put up, I've been a little busy! Hope you like it :)

Still not owning anything argh.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

After Sherlock had swept down the stairs and out onto the street, the door clicking shut after him, Thor had got up from the couch and stood aimlessly in the middle of the room.

He felt frustrated and fidgety, clenching and unclenching his fists.

_Loki is out there, somewhere,_ he thought. _We shall seize him soon enough. Calm, Thor. Calm. Remember what happened the last time you rushed into a situation._

Thor made a growling noise in his throat. No matter how much he tried to calm himself, the thought of Loki and of the damage he could cause lurked in the shadows of his mind.

John, who was sitting in his chair, waiting for the fire he'd just lit to warm the room, looked over at him.

"Come sit down, Thor." he said. "Sherlock'll be gone for a while."

Thor let out an exasperated sigh and plonked his heavy frame into the chair. It creaked worryingly.

"I grow tired of waiting." he said after a while.

John shrugged sympathetically. "Don't worry. We're close to catching them now."

"Not close enough, son of Wat. I must return to Asgard with Loki soon, or there is risk of my father raising an army and coming to collect him by force."

"But surely, he realises that would probably result in death and destruction of this city?" said John, curling his toes around the edge of the rug.

Thor nodded. "But it is a risk he is prepared to take. Loki must return home and face punishment for what he has done."

He didn't sound convinced, even to himself.

John wrinkled his face up. "You don't sound as though you believe that." he remarked, watching the firelight flicker, sending waves of warmth across the room.

Thor smiled sadly. "It is of no matter what I think, Midgardian. I must take the course of action best for my people."

John sat back in his chair and studied the muscled figure before him. "You want to watch some television?" he asked eventually, gesturing to the small television against a wall of the flat.

Thor couldn't see in what way this dark, glassed box would be entertaining.

He frowned.

"Is this another one of your mysterious Midgardian technologies?" he asked.

John smiled and stood up, leaning over to switch on the mysterious box.

Sherlock arrived home to shouting from the living room of 221b.  
He climbed the stairs, puzzled, and, opening the door, understood.  
John and Thor were yelling game-show answers at the television, each trying to win against the other.

He shook his head at the two of the,.

"No!" John yelled, sitting forward. Thor and him hadn't noticed Sherlock come in. "It's C! Obviously C!"

Thor chuckled, then, noticing Sherlock, stood up, clearing his throat.

John, still engrossed in the game show, started, and fumbling with the remote, switched the television off.  
He looked at Sherlock and tried to deduce what he'd seen.

Sherlock noticed John and, smiling to himself, remained quiet and allowed John to think.

The way that Sherlock was still standing, tall and upright, like a greyhound fresh from the chase.

_There's news._

He's not smiling. There wasn't even a twinkle of excitement in his eyes.

_It's not good news?_

John gave up. It was impossible to tell anything.

"Deduce anything?" Sherlock asked, turning around and, closing the door, hanging his coat on the peg.

John frowned at him.

Thor looked nonplussed. "Is my brother there?" he asked, staring Sherlock down.

Sherlock nodded and stretched out in his chair. "Yes, I have made some interesting deductions indeed."  
"And my brother?" Thor prompted, still standing near the door.

Sherlock nodded again. "He's there."

Thor sighed. _If the Midgardian speaks the truth, I have no choice but to go and collect what belongs to me,_ he thought. _Loki is only a danger so long as he is working with others._

John had sunk into the chair opposite to Sherlock. "So, what did you see?" he asked.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his head, stretching. "Well, Moriarty and this Loki are definitely working together, although just professionally I'm not sure," he began. Thor made a noise in the back of his throat that neither John nor Sherlock could place. "However, their relationship, whatever level it's on, is obviously volatile, as I expected. I think Moriarty might be planning to use your brother, Thor," Sherlock continued, leaning back and rubbing his hands together. "But I don't think Moriarty has worked out how powerful Loki really is, and Loki is planning to use him, I suspect. That could end…_interestingly._" Sherlock finished.

"So the plan is?" said John, sitting forward and watching Sherlock carefully.

"I'm not sure. We could go in there and get Moriarty, or Loki, and risk the safety of everybody, or we could wait-"  
"And risk my father's wrath." finished Thor, angrily.

Sherlock sighed. "It's a pretty little problem."

Thor wrinkled his eyebrows. There was nothing pretty or little about this particular problem, as far as he could see. It was a problem, however.

As John and Sherlock's conversation turned to other things, Thor puzzled.  
_It is decided,_ he thought. _I will seek him out and take him home. Tonight._  
It would not be difficult to get the address whilst the Midgardians were distracted. The sooner he had Loki, the better.

* * *

Jim had decided. He would manipulate Loki into using his power.

Surely _that_ would be Detective Inspector Lestrade's division?

He gave Loki a thin-lipped smile as he stalked into the room and settled himself on the other end of the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chin and looking at Jim as though there was something wrong with him.

"What are you staring at, Midgardian?" he snapped.

Jim murmured something in reply, but Loki wasn't interested. He had more pressing issues to deal with.

Although the tall man with the long coat had hid himself well from any Midgardians, Loki was no Midgardian. He wasn't even an Asgardian, he reminded himself.  
_He_ knew that the man was there.

Whilst getting changed he'd had a curious creeping sensation, as though he was a child again, being carefully studied and watched by his father and all the other adults.

_Of course,_ he thought, more things sliding into place. _I was a volatile outsider. Of course I needed to be watched._

Pushing the bitter thought to the back of his mind, to be dealt with later, along with those growing curious feelings towards Thor, he focused on the problem.  
Intrigued, Loki used a relatively simple spell to single out the source of the creeping feeling.

Loki studied him with interest, pulling a woollen shift that Jim called a 'jumper' over his head.

He was tall, with dark curls and an angled face.

This, then, must be the 'Sherlock Holmes' that Jim was always going on about.

Loki smiled to himself as he remembered.

Another ace up his sleeve, he thought. Not only had he worked out the basis of Jim's intentions, he had also managed to get the intentions of those that would try to stop him.

_I will bring this world to rack and ruin,_ he thought. _This puny Midgardian 'detective' cannot stop me. Jim will become useful. If I play along to his asinine plans for me, he will be putty in my hands. Disposable, manipulative putty._

* * *

The night had long since fallen when Sherlock and John finally took themselves to bed.

Thor, laying on the couch in the pretence of sleeping there, watched the glowing embers of the fire dwindle into darkness.

It reminded him of hours spent in Asgard, lazing in front of the grand palace fires of an evening, playing board games or watching Loki practice his magic.  
Once, he had conjured the room into darkness and used the smouldering ashes of the room's fire to create fantastical animals, which gave a warm orange glow as they roamed the room. Loki and Thor had sat in the centre of the room, Loki concentrating on his newly-learned trick and Thor astounded. He'd never been able to grasp magic, and it bewildered him.

Odin had yelled at the two of them later, as the product of Loki's magic was that the room was covered in burn marks from the hot ash.

Thor hadn't cared, smiling at his younger brother as the two had been sent to clean the marks off.

Thor was shaken from this pleasant reminiscing by the sound of doors closing. _The Midgardians are contained_, he thought, standing up as quietly as he could and setting about putting on his armour.

Getting the address had been too easy, he thought. Sherlock's coat had been on the door all night, and he had merely waited until the two were out of the room, upon which he slipped his hand into the pocket and sought out the curious 'mobile' that Sherlock had.

He'd watched Sherlock punch in the pass-code earlier and remembered it, easily getting the information he needed to go about setting things right.

Loki was an escapee of Asgard, and therefore (as the almost-king) Thor's responsibility.

Of course, thought Thor as he made his way down the stairs, trying not to creak, and out the door, shutting it softly behind him and setting out into the night, finding his way through this complicated Midgardian city was going to be a challenge.


End file.
